


Independent Variable

by animehead



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Hand & Finger Kink, Hand Jobs, M/M, Macrophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-23
Updated: 2013-08-23
Packaged: 2017-12-24 10:05:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/938673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/animehead/pseuds/animehead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Armin loosely relies on the Scientific Method.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Independent Variable

The first time it happens, they’re still too young to fully understand it. Of course, that was years ago and now they know exactly what they’re doing. 

The problem is they never speak about it afterwards. 

It’s not that Armin hasn’t tried talking about it with him in the past. But Eren always finds a reason to excuse himself, always comes up with a way to avoid speaking about the things they do to each other when no one else is watching. 

Eventually, Armin decides that talking about is pretty much improbable. Eren has never been the type to communicate as freely as others. In fact, sometimes Armin thinks that simple conversations are sometimes too stressful for Eren and the last thing that his best friend needs is more stress. 

Eren doesn’t handle stress very well. 

The burning sting of a cut on his left shoulder pulls Armin away from his musings, and he silently scolds himself for forgetting the dangers of the world around him for something that almost anyone else would deem trivial. 

He’s not too badly injured, thanks to Eren. Honestly, it annoys Armin how often that seems to happen. He’s still not pulling his weight like everyone else and it makes him feel useless, regardless of how intelligent everyone seems to think he is. 

Armin winces when he grips the shoulder of his jacket and pulls it away from his skin. The blood soaked fabric of his shirt clings to the fresh wound, making him clench his teeth in pain. 

A loud huff of breath comes from high above his head and Armin doesn’t need to look up to know that Eren is staring down at him, concerned for his well-being as always. 

“I’m fine,” Armin says. “It just stings a little.”

Eren narrows his eyes and Armin can’t tell if it’s out of disbelief or genuine concern, but when one of those giant sized fingers points in the vicinity of his shoulder, Armin assumes it’s a little of both. 

Armin doesn’t say anything when he gently slides his jacket halfway down his shoulder and tugs at his shirt collar. He shows off his battle wound to Eren with something akin to pride before, without warning, Eren picks him up. 

Eren holds Armin in the palm of his hand, his entire body eye level with Eren’s glowing green eyes. Armin can’t help but think how so many people would be terrified to be this close to a titan’s mouth and yet, he isn’t the least bit afraid. 

Armin finds himself taking in the sight of Eren in his titan form— rows of dangerous teeth and pointy ears not unlike the fictional elves he’s read in fairytales and fables when he was much younger. 

Armin laughs at that thought, and when Eren brings head closer toward Armin as if asking Armin what’s so funny, Armin laughs even harder. 

When he stops laughing at the notion of titan elf Eren—and the ridiculousness of such as all the elves he’s ever read about have been smaller than most humans—Armin lowers himself onto Eren’s middle finger and smiles. 

He wishes that Eren would be more willing to communicate with him when it comes to certain things. He doesn’t want to complicate things with Eren, but he does want to know if what they’ve done means anything to him. 

No, that’s a ridiculous question. Of course it _means_ something to Eren. It has to. They’re best friends and Eren has never done anything remotely sexual with anyone else. 

Or… has he?

Armin could ask Eren that. He could ask him right now, actually, but he knows he won’t get a proper answer or even one that he can even understand. But he’s given it some thought and he’s noticed a pattern between him and Eren. 

Whenever they do… _things_ , Eren is always the one to initiate it. Gentle brushes of his fingers beneath Armin’s ear as he’s walking past, late night kisses that leads to warm hands slipping inside his pajama bottoms… and it always happens whenever Eren has spent any part of the day in his titan form. 

Which means that he can fully expect him and Eren to do _something_ later today. 

But what if Armin changed it up? What if _he_ was the one to actually initiate things? What if he became the independent variable? What if it resulted in Eren actually wanting to talk about their friendship, about their _relationship_?

He admits to himself that it isn’t very likely. But he would have thought Eren being a titan also wasn’t very likely, so it was worth a shot, right?

Armin knows he’s blushing when he unfastens the lower half of his clothing, but he doesn’t really care. Eren seems confused, as usual, but Armin doesn’t waste any time explaining things to him. Both his ears and cheeks burn with embarrassment by the time he’s fully exposed, his cock rigid and mere inches above Eren’s palm. 

Armin watches Eren and his struggle to either stare into Armin’s eyes or to keep his gaze down. He’s always secretly wondered if Eren could ever get aroused as a titan, perhaps not physically since he lacked any sex organs in his titan form, but maybe it was a mental thing? Then again, whenever Eren was in his titan form he was usually killing titans and Armin doubted something like that would turn Eren on. 

But then again…

When he widens his legs, Armin’s thankful for his natural flexibility and the fact that he rides horses, otherwise spreading his thighs far enough apart that his cock grazes Eren’s skin would have been more painful than pleasurable. 

Armin chances another glance at Eren, but Eren’s eyes are focused on his hand, watching intensely as Armin rocks his hips back and forth, gliding his cock against Eren’s huge finger. 

A moan slips from Armin’s lips and Eren growls low in his chest in return. Armin tries his best to watch Eren, but eventually his glazed blue eyes shift downward and flutter close. He leans forward, hands clutching at Eren’s fingers as he grinds down, the friction from Eren’s skin making him gasp and drop his head forward. 

He’s too busy enjoying the sensations of Eren’s finger gliding across the tip of his cock to notice the desperate and longing expression on Eren’s face. 

“E-Eren,” Armin moans, just as Eren uses the index finger of his free hand to tilt Armin’s chin back, forcing him to meet Eren’s gaze. 

Armin cries out after that, cumming while whimpering a gasped and broken version of Eren’s name. He shudders, thighs quivering from the intensity of his orgasm. It’s too much for him to speak, so he just gazes into Eren’s eyes and hopes he understands. 

When his hips no longer seem to want to thrust violently against Eren’s hand, Armin finds the energy to tuck himself back into his pants and refastens his clothing. 

“We should probably head back now,” he says. “It looks like everything is all clear and the longer you stay in your titan form, the longer it takes you to recover.”

Eren just stares at him, as if expecting Armin to explain what that was or why it happened, but Armin says nothing. He even pretends not to notice when Eren licks his finger and wipes it on a nearby tree after he’s moved Armin from his hand to his shoulder. 

It’s much later that evening when Armin is sitting outside admiring fireflies during a brief moment of peace from noisy comrades and murderous titans. He hears footsteps approaching him and isn’t at all surprised when Eren lowers himself into the empty space next to him. 

“How are you feeling?” Armin asks him, but Eren doesn’t answer him. 

Instead, he hooks his pinky finger with Armin’s and stares down at his now average sized feet. 

“I… um…” Eren hesitates, but Armin doesn’t push him. “About today…”

“We don’t have to talk about it,” Armin says. And he actually does mean it. 

“I _want_ to talk about it, about us,” he adds softly, his voice barely above a whisper. 

And Armin holds back a smile and nods because he figured Eren would.   



End file.
